Depp Overload
by Funky-Little-Armadillo
Summary: Fun little story of several Depp characters in one house. 1. Sands 'OUaTiM' 2. Ed Wood & J.M. Barrie 'FN' 3. Abberline 'From Hell' & Ichabod 'SH'
1. Armadillos and Tequila

**Armadillos and Tequila**

I'm bored. Seems to be a common occurrence as of late. I'm in between stories, not on a set deadline, and it's driving me nuts. In fact, I just realized I have been watching a spider in my office window for the past 20 minutes.

I desperately need something to amuse me.

Pushing myself up out of the desk chair, I meander my way down the hall to my bedroom. I open the door to see Sands sprawled out on the love seat, basking in the late afternoon sun.

One thing I hate about Sands is that you can never tell when he's asleep and when he's pretending to sleep so he can catch you off guard. Right now I don't care. I need companionship, and by God he's gonna give it to me!

"Stop staring at me like that."

I'm taken aback for a moment. It never fails to amaze me how he knows these things. Sometimes it's hard to believe he's…

"What do you want?" No more forceful than his last utterance, just entirely to the point.

"I wanna write," I say as I make my way across the room to sit with him.

"Well then, write." A little perturbed.

"Don't know what about," I mumble into his shoulder.

" So you came to me for help?" he asks, his voice tainted ever so slightly with confusion.

"Yuh-huh." He smells of tobacco and leather and something that can only be described as Sands. I breathe him in deeply. The scent really is heavenly. And very soothing.

"World domination."

Wow. That was quick. And totally not where my train of thought was headed. I find myself quickly pondering how Sands could take over the world, then, "Nah…I think that's getting old."

"World domination getting old? Bullshit. Not in a million years. Money…power…too interesting. Too…_desirable_." He makes sure to whisper the last word into my ear as he runs his fingertips down my neck. He nibbles gently at the lobe of my ear, then turns to kissing my jaw line. Now this was my kind of entertainment!

I sit straight up. "How 'bout armadillos?"

"What?" A little dazed. "What the fuck! Armadillos! From world domination to rats in a shell. Yeah, huge step forward."

"Well, maybe they're taking over the world. Packing heat. Smuggling drugs. I think it has potential."

"Yeah, potential to kill a boner in four syllables flat."

He seems slightly annoyed with me.

"Yeah, well…you've got your problems and I've got mine. I need a story. _Somebody_ around here has to bring home the pork and tequila."

"What are you telling me for?"

"First you make fun of my armadillo idea, then you drink all the tequila…"

"You don't drink tequila, sugarbutt."

"AH!" I get up off the love seat and stamp my way over to the door. I turn around right before I leave the room in order to have the last word, and he's grinning at me. The little prick is smirking at me. A very suggestive, sexy smirk…but no. He's not gonna pull that trick again.

Letting out an exasperated half whine/half sigh, I turn around and slam the door.

"Fucking armadillos."

* * *

So here it is: my first fan fiction. Hope you like it. Sands was pissing me off. He doesn't like armadillos! I threatened to force him, but he's too strong for me. He told me what he wanted, so I was at his mercy.

I was greatly inspired by vanillafluffy's "Writer's Perogative". It's a great story; go read it. Please leave comments and thoughts.


	2. Aliens and Cookie Dough

_**Aliens and Cookie Dough**_

My mind is _really_ not set on work now. _Thank you, Sands._ "Stupid man…stupid ego…stupid grin," I mutter to myself. "Stupid…stupid." Yeah, Sands would have enjoyed that witty comment.

"Grr!" This is not good. That fucking agent will _not_ get out of my brain! I know what I'll do. I'll go read. Take my mind off him.

I set off down the hall toward the library. "I think I'll read Peter Pan…it's been awhile."

That's it; drown the bastard out with innocence.

I open the door to my library, and am immediately greeted by the most glorious warmth. A fire is blazing and the room smells delightfully of old books and…pipe tobacco?

"Hello. Fancy meeting you here, miss."

"And where might _here_ be today, Mr. Barrie?"

"Well, a library at the moment. Suffering from a bit of a headache; imagination is taking a wee nap."

"I'm sorry. Can I get you anything?"

"No, don't bother. Your company will be enough. It'll be nice to talk to someone other than Porthos." He smiles half-heartedly at me. Poor man. Poor, very handsome man.

He's sitting in a burgundy leather armchair, a very soft looking bathrobe wrapped about him. His old brown pipe juts from his mouth, grey smoke floating toward the ceiling. Sherlock Holmes could never have rivaled this. I pet Porthos who has come in search of affection.

"Sorry boy," I think, "right now your master is the one with my attention."

James' eyes are closed. I brush a few loose strands of hair from his face, and gently kiss his forehead. He smiles in return; wraps an arm around my waist. I was right about the bathrobe, very fluffy.

I sit precariously on the arm of the chair, letting James hug me. Sometimes it's wonderful to just be held. Right now is not one of those times. Right now I want more, all thanks to the psycho who, for some reason, is still basking in _my_ bedroom. I groan, but before Mr. Barrie can inquire as to why, the library door bursts open.

Black high heels. Nylons. Black skirt. Pink…angora sweater.

"Well hello kids!"

"Ed?" James is slightly confused. He's never seen the somewhat eccentric writer like this before.

"Yes sir. Mr. Edward D. Wood, Jr. at your service. And **boy** have I got an idea for you!"

I stare blankly, wondering what nonsense he's conjured up this time.

"It's called Plan 10 From Outer Space!"

I mentally role my eyes, whereas James seems to perk up a bit.

"What's it about then?" God that accent is sexy.

"Well, after the aliens' first failed attempt at world domination," _God! That subject just keeps popping up everywhere, doesn't it! _"they decide to regroup and try again. But this time, instead of lasers and terror, they choose a new weapon. You ready for this? …Cookie Dough!"

"Cookie Dough." I was ready for something odd, but not quite this.

"Yes."

"Interesting weapon of choice, that." Mr. Barrie was sitting upright, his pale cheeks sporting a rosy blush. "I would have gone with brussel sprouts myself. They already look evil."

"Exactly. Which is why cookie dough is the perfect weapon; everybody loves it! Nobody will ever expect mind controlling cookie dough!"

I fight so hard to suppress a giggle.

I lose.

"I like it." James. "Have you got a script?"

"Not entirely, no. I was thinking we'd go spur of the moment, find our artistic muse and run with her! I even thought we could get the pirate to star as Prime Mookling, leader of the aliens. Just fill him up on booze and let him go!"

The pirate! Jack! I can already hear him questioning Ed's masculinity. This pleases me. Not nearly as much as escaping this hair-brained movie talk, though. If I stick around, they'll probably try to cast me. As the cookie dough, the way my luck runs. No. No no no. Not nearly in the mood for that.

I excuse myself (not that either of them are paying any attention to me), and leave the now overly warm library.

I have a mission.

A mission, and a burning desire.

For rum, of course.

* * *

How's that for you? It occurred to me while I was in Texas, after I had snapped. Personally, I like Sands' story better, but I _am_ strangely obsessed with him for some reason. I'm in the process of talking with Jack, but he's being stubborn. Stubborn and drunk. Many thanks to Klara for the Sherlock Holmes thought. 


	3. Monkeys and Absinthe

**Author's Note: **Just a short interlude while I'm searching for our dear Captain Jack.  
**Pairings: **Blink and you'll miss it slash. Betcha can't guess who!

* * *

**Monkeys and Absinthe**

The bar. I need a drink. I _desperately_ need a drink. And Jack may be there. A drink and a Jack. Wait. Scratch that thought, it sounded funny. I need a drink and a pirate. Much better.

I enter the kitchen, and pray I see Jack rummaging through the various bottles of liquor. I am greeted instead by a very hungry looking, very evil, undead monkey.

"Shit!" I exclaim, rather shaken, "I thought you were dead."

_Note to self: get Roux to build that thing a cage. If it came creeping up on me at night…_

I hand little Jack a banana and hurriedly walk off, glancing over my shoulder to see him gnawing through the peel.

I pass through the laundry room – which is _miraculously_ unoccupied – toward the garage. Perhaps Jack found my secret stash after all.

Upon opening the door, I am hit with a thick cloud of smoke. My eyes gradually overcoming the stinging that produces, and immediately pick up on and trail over two nearly empty absinthe bottles. My eyes wander a bit further through the smoke until I finally note a very drunk – and very naked – Inspector Abberline and Constable Crane.

And…**Holy God!**

I rapidly slam the door as the entire scene desides to register with my somewhat lagging brain. "Ichabod. _Ichabod._ I never figured…"

Reopening the door and joining in the festivities is oh-so tempting, but I can't. I must exercise _some _smidgen of will here. And besides, I've been ignoring my dear Captain Sparrow for far too long as it is.

Giggling quietly to myself, I step outside into the light.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Well - not what I was hoping for. I've been entirely too preoccupied with Sands lately. I promise I'll go watch PotC again soon. Hopefully Jack will have a good idea for his litte input to this tale. Read and review, por favor : D 


End file.
